


Take Me Apart

by fannishliss



Series: Kink List [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Play, Anonymity, Blindfolds, Bondage, Darkness, Id Fic, Kidnapping, M/M, Nipple Play, No consent issues trust me, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sensory Deprivation, Urination (Not Watersports), being observed and possibly filmed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3456776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve comes to, bound and blindfolded, and someone proceeds to take him apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Apart

 

Steve woke up a little groggy. Everything was dark. Reality felt muffled and distant. 

Suddenly Steve was wide awake. It was dark because he was blindfolded, muffled because he was wearing noise-cancelling headphones. And he couldn’t move, because he was anchored to some kind of frame at the neck, waist, and at all four extremities by leather-lined cuffs that didn’t even begin to budge when he flexed against them. And he was naked. 

Fuck. 

He struggled for a while, then left off, panting. Nothing. Whoever had done this, they’d done it well. 

The air didn’t ripple in the silence of his holding cell, or wherever he was. He could barely make out a rumble of machinery, probably a heating/cooling unit. The temperature of the air was slightly warm — very comfortable actually. 

Nothing happened. Time passed. 

Steve started to notice his bladder. 

Once he noticed it he couldn’t stop noticing it. He’d had a few beers the night before. 

Now his bladder was definitely full, and kind of urgent. It was piss or appeal to his captors. He felt stubborn, but he really hated the smell of piss. Appeal was the first descent into Stockholm syndrome. Still. He just hated the smell. 

“Hey,” he called, into the silence. 

Nothing. 

“Hey,” he tried again. “Sorry, but I kind of need to take a leak.” 

His heart beat a thousand times. 

His heart rate was a little elevated, due to the duress of the situation, but he felt like it was still around 35. So, half an hour. 

Should he just let go? He really didn’t want to. 

“Hey, please? If you can hear me? I really need to piss.” 

“Language, Captain.” 

Steve’s body jolted involuntarily as the voice sounded, loud, through the ear buds pressed deep inside of his ears: an artificial voice, but very well modulated, a female voice, pleasant, with a cultured English accent. 

“Please?” Jesus Christ, he was already begging. This wouldn’t end well. “I need to relieve myself.” 

There was no answer. 

“Hey! Who are you? What do you want?” 

Already bargaining, Steve? How bad at this can you be? He berated himself. 

Ten minutes passed and he detected a very slight breeze. Then, without warning, a hand clad in latex grabbed his penis and lifted it clinically, while another hand pressed firmly into his abdomen, right over the bladder. 

“Fuck!” Steve shouted, and piss spurted out of him, hot, and such a relief — once the flow started, he couldn’t stop. He could smell it, strong, and there was a lot. 

He couldn’t hear it hit the floor… he guessed he would smell it later if it had. 

Eventually the stream faded back to a trickle and stopped. The gloved hand didn’t let go. 

Instead, it began to flex around him, gently, rhythmically, arousing him without his say so. The emptying of his bladder had left him relaxed, vulnerable. And now, this was a purely physical response, being pumped into hardness, and Steve was utterly powerless to resist. His penis hardened, and the pulsating touch felt good — too good. 

He wouldn’t speak — wouldn’t ask them to stop — there was no way whoever it was would stop if he asked — he wouldn’t make a noise. He knew he couldn’t control his physical response but that was all they would get, nothing more. 

He was so hard. The hand felt so, so good. He tried to repress the minute thrusting of his hips. 

The hand pumped slower, and slower. He was so hard, so close. 

The hand slowed, inexorably, to a stop. It held him, helpless, while he quivered. His whole body shook with the need for just one more stroke. 

The hand gently opened and was gone, absorbed back into the blank and empty darkness. 

Nothing. 

He was alone in the room. Not a breath, not a sound. His erection pulsed, unheeded by the warm, still air: needy, helpless. 

He refused to make a sound. 

Slowly, his erection subsided. Steve focused on his breathing, trying to stay calm. Whoever had him would make themselves known, eventually. No use kidnapping Captain America just to leave him hanging, alone, in the dark. 

Unless he wasn’t really in the dark. Maybe there was dim lighting on the other side of the blindfold. Maybe he was being filmed. 

Just as he had that thought, something touched him again, without warning. 

The touch was so delicate, so slight, it was as though he had imagined it: a soft, feathery stroke against his nipple. His head tossed, without his volition, turning blindly, in vain, seeking a glimpse of what had touched him. 

Nothing. 

Untouched, his penis began to fill again. He couldn’t help it, tried to will it away, but couldn’t. The more he tried to think of something else, anything, the thought of that smoothly gripping hand, coming suddenly upon him from nowhere, filled his thoughts. He was hardening, whether he liked it or not. 

The touch came again to his nipple: a delicate, tantalizing touch. He whimpered, and then flushed. Even before the serum, his nipples had been senstive. Afterwards, he couldn’t leave them alone. Sometimes he could come just from pinching them. 

“Oh, you naughty boy. You really are enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

The voice in his earphones, sounded amused, even though it was clearly synthetic. 

He bit his lip and refused to answer. There were no right answers in this type of situation. There was just holding on, trying to get through it with some tattered semblance of dignity.

He tried to stay calm, but he quickly lost it. Soft, teasing touches, first to the left, then to the right, then both at once, grazing his nipples so that he trembled for more, then pressing them into his pecs, rolling them, pinching them, pulling away. 

A hot mouth closed on one nipple and began to suck, prodding with the tongue, nursing, pulling. It seemed to know him so well, that devilish mouth, reading his reactions, and giving him exactly what he needed. 

He wouldn’t moan, he wouldn’t. 

Then, oh so gently, the hand touched his dick. 

He was so hard, so aroused. He couldn’t help but ache for the touch, arching toward it as much as he could within the confines of his bonds. His dick was wet by now, dripping arousal, so ready to come. The touch was playful, teasing, nothing like what he needed, and the hot mouth sucked at him relentlessly. 

He felt it building. If he could just stay still, not give himself away, maybe… 

Everything withdrew and he was left alone again, abandoned to the darkness. 

He wouldn’t make a sound, he swore, but he knew his panting breaths had to give him away. He was trapped, helpless, at the mercy of whoever had him. They would do what they wanted. He couldn’t stop them. And he knew without a doubt that they could outlast his control. 

He was aching, so hard, and he knew the teasing touches would return, which kept him hard a lot longer than before. But eventually, his erection receded. 

After a long time waiting, he must have dozed off. 

He came to with the gentle touch stroking his anus. 

“Oh, oh god,” he choked out. He thrashed, but couldn’t get away. His ankles were securely fastened, wide apart. There was no way to clench, nowhere to arch. 

The gloved finger stroked and stroked, smooth and warm. It was well lubricated. Wordlessly, silently, insistent, it seemed to try and soothe him into submission. He clenched in vain. The finger had all the time in the world. Patiently, relentlessly, the finger stroked at his asshole, massaging the anxious ring of muscle, soothing it, calming it, relaxing it. His ass would give way, and he knew it — why fight? 

The tip of the finger slipped inside. 

“Shit!” he hissed, and the finger withdrew. 

Darkness. Silence. Nothing. 

He could feel the pre-come trickling down his dick. He was so hard, now, again, helpless and quivering, ready, so ready to come. 

Pleas filled his head. Begging, submission. He wanted to come. He was tired of the restraints, uncomfortable in the enforced posture, even though technically nothing was hurting and he was safe and well. His senses were starved and he was a little scared. But oh, so aroused. 

He tried to find his stubbornness and pride. They were there, the very core of who he was, but they were receding. Sure he was stubborn, but the touches would give him what he wanted if he just broke down — wouldn’t they? He was too proud — but what would pride really get him in the end? The touches would do what they wanted, regardless of his vanity. Why bother trying to hold out? 

He was beginning to wear himself down, and he knew it. He figured whoever had him must know it as well. 

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to beg. Not again. 

His erection slowly faded back, until his dick hung semilimp against his balls. He couldn’t help wondering what would happen next. 

“Ask,” the voice whispered. 

How could a computer voice whisper? But it had, soft and sensuous. He hadn’t imagined it — had he? 

He strained his ears, listening. The darkness was warm, the anchors still held him. 

“Give in,” came the whisper, so faint. 

He fought his own instincts: he’d always been a sucker that way, couldn’t keep his mouth shut, always had to answer back. 

“Why fight?” the voice whispered, nearly inaudible. 

He got hard so fast that time, it was truly shameful. 

His nipples were tight and ready, his dick hard and leaking, his asshole expectant, quivering. 

Then someone was stroking him, gentle, firm strokes, soothing his tired muscles — his legs tired from fighting, his arms tired from hanging, his stomach tired from holding back, arching, fighting. The gloved hands were warm and thorough, skilled with massage strokes, rubbing his skin with oil that smelled fantastic, almond and lavender and just a hint of sandalwood. It felt so good — why fight it? 

He couldn’t remember why. 

The strong hands massaged his chest, and rubbed over his nipples without any fuss. They rubbed down his abs and his hips and his thighs, down his calves to his feet. His naked feet, protruding from the cuffs, were thoroughly rubbed and it was pure bliss, the strong grip probing into his arches, seeking out the tightness in each toe and massaging it all away. 

Then the hands climbed back up his legs, massaging his glutes, firmly rubbing his ass until he felt so pliant, so warm. He wanted the touch on his balls and hole and dick but those needy places were all passed by, disregarded. The hands moved up his back, detecting every knot and working it free. His body was strong and flawless, but even perfect muscles got tight sometimes. The hands rubbed his neck and shoulders, soothing him, caressing him, making him let go of everything he carried. 

The hands moved onto his scalp, stimulating and releasing his tension, pressing lightly across his face, finding stresses he didn’t even know he had and releasing them away. 

The hands stroked and soothed, making him feel so good. He dozed again and the hands drifted away. 

The hands were back at his nipples again, pinching — clamps! Nipple clamps. He thrashed, to no avail. The tiny clamps did their work, pinching relentlessly, not letting go. 

“Say it,” the whisper suggested. He bit his tongue, refused to give in. 

The touch was so unpredictable now. Alighting heavy on his lips…. tickling the tender places under his jaw and behind his ear…. stroking his eager dick without giving satisfaction… passing between his asscheeks, dipping lightly into his hole… scratching his thighs to make his testicles draw up… tapping right under the head of his dripping dick… 

Relentless and so, so good. 

“Give in,” the voice said, but he wouldn’t. 

The nipples clamps released, both at once, and the hands were gone. 

He wondered how long he would have to wait. He was staring to feel a little more confident. He’d taken everything the hands had to offer and hadn’t given it. He could make it. 

Then he felt it, between his cheeks — a steady, inhuman pressure against his anus, lubed but cold and unyielding — he had no way to tell what it was, how big, or what it would do. It began to press steadily in. 

The fingers had lubed and relaxed him enough that the first intrusion didn’t bother him at all — that is, the intrusion slipped painlessly in, smooth and easy, cold and impersonal. He began to sweat, wondering just how much he could take — knowing he had no choice — he would take as much as he was given. 

Nothing touched him anywhere except that cold feeling— steel? — it rested there, heavy inside him, waiting for him to adjust. He would, he would adjust whether he liked it or not, and then the intrusion would resume. 

He felt a gentle tugging and pushing, so easy, so soft — the thing inside him testing him, making him ready, preparing him for more. He couldn’t push it out, he couldn’t take it deeper, he could only submit and try to relax. 

He did — he wanted it — he relaxed — and the pressure built and eased as the thing slipped deeper inside him, closer to where he knew he wanted it. 

“Relax,” the voice whispered — or did it? Maybe that was merely his own mind, his aching, needy body — wanting to give in, wanting the pleasure the hands were tormenting him with. Let this thing inside his ass take him apart, undo him, loosen him up until he was whatever the hands wanted him to be… 

wanted him… 

oh, god, he wanted it. 

Bearing down, he took the thing as it gently prodded inside him, he took it that much deeper and now it was pressing against his prostate - and now it stopped. Unmoving, it hung there, inside him, warming, testing him. 

“Ask,” the whisper instructed, but still, he couldn’t. 

The thing— he refused to call it by any more accurate descriptor — rested inside him, barely moving. Nothing touched him. No one spoke. The voice was silent. All Steve could feel was the building pressure, so infinitesimally gradual, pushing the thing inside him, micron by micron, stretching him, demanding his acquiescence which he had not choice but to give. He had taken five increments of the thing already. It pressed deep inside him, foreign and sovereign unto itself. He had no say in the matter. How much more could he take? He knew he could take it. This wouldn’t break him. 

The thing began to retreat, and Steve almost cried. He tried to clench, but the thing had done its work, slipping free, leaving him empty and alone. He wouldn’t give it. He couldn’t. 

This time the hands waited only a moment or two. One hand gripped his dick tight and unmoving, while another hand fingered his ass, dipping in and out of the loosened hole, tempting him. 

Someone pinched his nipples — still sore from the clamps. Someone touched his mouth. Someone traced the shell of his ear. 

Too many hands! How many were there? Heart thudding, he jerked, trying to get away. 

The hands evanesced into the darkness. 

“Please, please, I can’t … please,” Steve begged. 

“You want it,” the voice prompted. 

“I want it, oh god,” Steve cried, gasping for breath. 

“You want to be fucked — just say it,” the voice whispered. 

“Fuck me!” Steve shouted. 

Instantly he felt the head of a dick against his hole, pressing in. Hands came around to hold him, too many hands, he knew it was too many hands — a mouth on the back of his neck, a mouth biting and there, that big dick pressing painlessly in, absolutely no resistance, sliding in deep all the way, and he wanted it, oh god, he wanted it so bad. 

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” Steve was chanting, he couldn’t shut up. 

The hand on his dick was loose and kind, the other hands teasing but insistent, right where he wanted them, and the fucker in his ass was doing his job exactly right, just nailing Steve’s prostate with every thrust, banging him so good. 

“Oh fuck!” Steve shouted, and came. 

The dick in his ass kept jabbing him, right where it counted, oh so electric, milking him all the way out, flashes of light inside the blindfold, arcs of lightning as the willing hand jerked out the fire that finally tore free. 

“Yes, you’re so good,” the voice was saying, “good, Stevie, you’re so good…” 

The words sank like fire into his brain, and there was nothing more to give. He hung loose in the restraints, utterly spent. 

The earplugs came out first. 

“Hey Stevie, you with me?” 

“Oh…. yeah,” Steve murmured. 

“That was a pretty good one,” Bucky said, taking off the blindfold. 

“Good,” Steve said. Bucky eased him out of the restraints, taking his weight until Steve was steady. 

“Who was that with you?” Steve half-heartedly thought to wonder. 

“Natalia,” Bucky said. “You know she doesn’t mind.” 

Steve didn’t have any modesty left to blush with. Natasha was such a good friend. 

“Clint…” 

“Clint ain't worried,” Bucky said easily. “She was doing the input for the voice, too,” Bucky added. 

“God, Bucky, that was amazing.” 

“You are amazing,” Bucky said, pulling Steve into his arms. Sweaty, limp, fucked out, Steve was safe in Bucky’s arms, ready to be kissed, eager to be held and petted and loved. 

“You took me apart,” Steve said with a smile. 

“And now I’ll put you back together,” Bucky promised, and Steve trusted that he would.

**Author's Note:**

> This scene was negotiated in advance, but Steve didn't necessarily know when it was coming. Surprise! but fully consensual. 
> 
> Nastasha was glad to lend a hand. :) (Otherwise this fic almost featured an AU where Peggy Carter survives as an AI with multiple and various android bodies. Just let me know if you'd like to see that sort of thing. :D)
> 
>  This is kink list # 3 Anonymity. Next up: Authority Figures. Got any requests? :)
> 
> This is the toy Bucky used: http://www.amazon.com/Caresse-Stainless-Steel-Graduated-Butt/dp/B00D99OFV4


End file.
